


Boyfriend Bluff

by kamin



Series: The Real Kind of Pretend [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:54:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamin/pseuds/kamin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aomine agrees to help with Kise’s stalker situation, which apparently involved hand holding and attempts at conversations that didn’t involve head butts, and maybe surviving angry seniors.</p><blockquote>
  <p>“Oh my god, Kise,” Aomine gasped, staring straight at Horikita Mai’s breasts, just yards away. “I think I love you.”</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Boyfriend Bluff

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for a friend who more or less gave me the content for a lot of this and basically wanted an aokise version of a manga (by Shoowa) she read (with the lines and everything), so this fic took a lot from that. This was all in good fun and I do not claim this piece to be like 100% original in any way, but more of a parody of the manga mixed in with some extra bits.

Kise didn’t particularly take much out of his modeling gig aside from the money and freebies (the fan girls were really bothersome, and schedules got in the way of basketball practice and spending time with his friends) but if there was one thing he could say that made him glad about it now, it was that he was able to bring the sparkle in Aominecchi’s wide eyes, even if they were very blatantly trained on the chest of Kise’s co-worker for the day.

“Oh my god, _Kise_ ,” Aomine gasped, staring straight at Horikita Mai’s breasts, just yards away. “I think I love you.”

Kise laughed, breathy. His cheeks were flushed and ached from smiling and laughing already countless times in the day, and it wasn’t even lunch yet. Aomine stood beside him, practically bumping shoulders as one hand ghosted on Kise’s bicep, as if torn between checking if he was dreaming or not.

Just a few steps away, Horikita Mai sat, surrounded by her stylists, getting prepared for a fashion shoot with Kise. It was apparently a “blessing from the gods” that the famous female idol’s manager saw Kise on a magazine cover and took a shining to the blonde, dubbing him the ‘golden boy’ and instantly envisioning a shoot involving the two models. Kise would have raised an eyebrow at his agent and her thrill over the so-called ‘big chance’, but the name “Horikita Mai” made him snap bolt upright in his seat and almost miss the details of the shoot in his excitement. After being made to repeat the date, time and meeting place of the shoot, Kise blurted out a “Can-I-bringafriendwithme?” clumsily, words spilling out in a flurry. His agent was probably surprised that Kise had so readily agreed to do the shoot (she had prepared a number of arguments and bribes to persuade Kise to _please_ agree to do it even if he had any basketball arrangements), so she gave the very willing OK, and after one more round of reciting the shoot details (just to be sure), they said their ‘see you’s and ended the call.

Immediately after, Kise called Aomine, commencing a verbal battle over the phone on Why Aominecchi Should Hang Out With Kise This Saturday, whilst keeping the Horikita Mai part a secret, struggling at the parts that involved why it wasn’t about basketball, and trying to converse in a way that wouldn’t instantly compel Aominecchi to hang up. He didn’t quite remember _how_ he managed to convince him to go there—and _on time_ too—but once there, Kise made sure to hold on to him until Horikita-san came, and after she did, it was Aomine holding on to _him_ instead, as if he needed an anchor to the reality that was him meeting his favorite idol.

Even when Kise had to sit down for his stylists to get to work on him, Aomine had practically clung to him, constantly hovering never further than an arm’s length away, and somehow it had made Kise a bit self-conscious (though he shrugged that off as pressure from having a shoot with a much more popular idol). When it was time to actually stand in front of the camera, Kise had to peel off Aomine’s fingers from his arm and sit him down on his own chair, and all throughout the shoot with Horikita-san, Aominecchi had a twinkle in his eye as he watched intently, all attention on the two models (or was it just Horikita-san? He’s probably staring at her, Kise thought. Although why did it seem like Aominecchi was glancing at him?). By lunch break, Kise had already become friendly with Horikita-san, thoroughly charming her. He took the chance to drag Aominecchi towards the idol and basked in the utter _glow_ that radiated through his features (which were luckily not trained on Horikita-san’s breasts at the time).

“Horikita-san, this is Aominecchi! He’s the one I was talking about!” Kise beamed, his arm hooked around Aomine’s, partially holding the ace up.

Horikita-san smiled, her features lighting up. “Kise-kun, I told you to call me ‘Mai-chan’, didn’t I?” she turned to Aomine, who gulped. “Aomine-kun, right? Kise-kun told me so much about you! Kise-kun’s idol and close friend!”

Aomine took a few beats to process the reality that his favorite idol was talking to him, and _said his name_. _Aomine-kun_. It was the latter part of her sentence that seemed to stick to him, however. “Huh? Idol?”

“M-Mai-chan!” Kise stuttered, his grip on Aomine going slack.

Mai-chan giggled. “He really admires you!” she said, sticking her hand out. “And anyone who Kise-kun admires must be a really wonderful person. I’m Horikita Mai. You can call me Mai-chan! It’s nice to meet you!”

Kise had to guide Aomine’s hand to shake Mai-chan’s, and the contact seemed to ground Aominecchi to reality: he was shaking Horikita Mai’s hand. She said that he was a wonderful person. A _really_ wonderful person. “Mai…-chan,” he tried, blushing faintly. “It’s—really nice to meet you too. Damn.”

Mai-chan giggled at that, flashing Aominecchi another billboard-worthy smile. All the hard lines on his face seemed to disappear, and he gave a bright smile of his own, making both Kise and Mai-chan blink in wonder. Smiling did wonders to his face.

Aomine had somewhat recovered after a few minutes, regaining his ability to converse, and somehow acquiring the ability to be _polite_. The three of them were constantly laughing and smiling during the break, and Mai-chan had hopped to Aomine’s side to lean in for a picture of the three of them, with Aomine in the middle, to which he immediately asked for a copy of. Kise had concluded this particular endeavor as a success, all for that sparkle and smile that he will forever rub in the face of Aominecchi as something Kise was actually responsible for.

He actually didn’t know why he agreed on the shoot just for the sake of Aominecchi, but Kise shrugged it off as a bout of goodwill, and it was a pretty refreshing change of pace in terms of hanging out with the basketball ace (though he can’t deny that seeing Aominecchi made him want to drop everything he was doing and challenge him to a one-on-one), apart from the fact that they didn’t get to hang out as often as they used to.

Kise _did_ , however, find it to have become a rather useful experience to fall back on, almost a month later. He _had_ been getting pretty popular as a model _and_ a bit of a personality, being one of the lauded “Generation of Miracles”, the infinitely evolving ace of Kaijo, and the rising ‘golden boy’ of the modeling industry. All of that didn’t fully occur to him until he’d spotted someone following him in school, which continued on until practice, and even on his way home. He’d consistently started feeling an unnerving prickling at the neck when he felt that that person—that _stalker_ —was watching him, pointedly very different from when spectators or fan girls did, to the point that even his Kaijo teammates started getting weirded out after the initial annoyance.

Kise had somewhat understood Midorima’s stance on horoscopes when it was just his luck that the day he had decided to give Aominecchi a call to meet up turned out to be the same day his stalker made himself known. Aominecchi had shown up early, which Kise supposed was because he didn’t attend practice at Touou again (he made a mental note to apologize to Momoicchi about that later)—Kaijo’s basketball team was in the middle of practice when Aomine waltzed right in, escorted by a visibly terrified freshman.

“A-Aominecchi?!” Kise blurted, jolting to a halt that made Hayakawa crash right into him, sending them sprawling to the ground. The rest of the team scrambled to a stop, careful to avoid tripping on them and over each other, and just like that, their practice was paused.

“Yo,” Aomine said simply, an eyebrow raised in amusement. Kise clambered to stand up, hair tousled and sticking to his face with sweat, and gaped. Kasamatsu shook his head, not quite wrapping it around the fact that Touou’s—no, the _Generation of Miracles’_ — _ace_ was standing in their gym. In his annoyance and captainly nature (and after giving Kise a solid kick to the back), Kasamatsu jabbed a finger in Aomine’s direction and yelled a challenge at him—for practice, he said. Aomine briefly cocked his head, considering the order, glanced at Kise, and shrugged (he needed some exercise, anyway), and no sooner were the Kaijo’s regulars dispatched, leaning heavily on their knees or heaving deep breaths on all fours on the ground after going against Teiko’s former ace, and completely losing.

Kise was the last one standing, covered in sweat and panting hard, barely surviving his third one-on-one with Aominecchi but not any less ecstatic. Aomine had just blown right past him and dunked his winning point when Kise felt that prickly sensation on his neck again. He shook his head and smacked his face with both hands, trying to shake the feeling off, but when Aominecchi turned to him after landing, it all but vanished, and all Kise could feel was his thundering heart staggering at the sight of Aominecchi’s grin, lined with an edge of challenge and pride. “That was a good match,” he said, balancing the basketball on a finger.

Kise’s eyes sparkled. Aomine promptly frowned. “Don’t let it get to your head, dumbass. You still lost, so stop it with the sparkles.”

An airy chuckle escaped Kise’s lips, peppered with wheezing and topped with flushed cheeks. The other Kaijo regulars seem to have somewhat recovered, and were ganging up on Aomine to play one more match, all notions of proper practice thrown out the window. Kise was about to complain about having his rematch first when Nakamura called out to him.

“Kise, you have a visitor,” he said, pushing up his glasses. He leaned closer to whisper in Kise’s ear. “I think it’s your stalker.”

Kise swallowed. “Alright, I’ll have to excuse myself for a bit, then.”

Nakamura-senpai gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll go tell the others,” he said, and Kise nodded, grateful.

Kise made sure to keep the door ajar when he stepped out, keeping himself visible to those inside. When he was outside, he was met with a slightly shorter, lean-muscled teen with a bleached mohawk and piercings and a look in his eyes that screamed ‘delinquent’ at every shift, only slightly betrayed by the light flush in his cheeks. He scratched the back of his head, not meeting Kise’s eyes when he muttered, “I’m uhm, I’m Fukuda, a second year here. S-sorry if this is sudden.”

“Not at all!” Kise perked up, defaulting to his usual cheery self. He smiled and shifted on the soles of his feet. “How may I help you, senpai?”

Fukuda’s blush deepened, and he swallowed, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “I-I saw you play basketball in one of the street courts a-and saw your pictures on the m-magazine with Horikita Mai in it a-and—”

Kise felt relief wash over him. Looks like Fukuda is a fan of Horikita Mai, and probably wanted to get Kise to bring him to meet her or something—

“—I fell in love with you!”

Kise blinked. “ _What_.”

“I-I think you’re really cool in court, and that you’re really handsome and—and—I know this might seem weird to you b-but if you’re not seeing anyone…p-p-please go out with me!”

Kise was dumbstruck, his mouth half-open. A few beats passed, and Kise started panicking inwardly. _What?_ Fukuda fell in love—with _him?_ Kise was at a loss. He had to come up with something to _say_ , something to break the silence—

“U-uh, I’m flattered, senpai,” Kise answered, mind racing to come up with something to follow. “But—I’m—I’m actually seeing someone right now! Sor—”

“Wh-what??” Fukuda exclaimed, eyes widening. He looked just about ready to hunt down whomever it was Kise was ‘going out with’. “W-who?!”

 _Craaaap_ , Kise panicked, his eyes shifting until it caught sight of a flash of blue. “A-Aominecchi!” he yelled.

From inside, Aomine had just ignored the three Kaijo regulars triple-teaming him to jump sideways, almost lining his side parallel to the ground when he chucked the ball towards the hoop, scoring. The others roared in frustration, starting some instantaneous team conference that consisted of cursing at each other and pointing out every blunder made. Aomine spun around, literally leaving them in the dust, and lightly skipped towards Kise, hands in his pockets.

As he got closer, Fukuda turned visibly shocked. Aomine was just an inch taller than Kise, but easily towered over Fukuda; his long, daunting form making him seem larger. He had the build of a seasoned athlete, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, and he carried himself with an air that commanded awe—one look and you just _know_ he was strong, even in the eyes of non-athletes. All this coupled with his sharp, piercing eyes thoroughly intimidated Fukuda, so much that he took a step back.

Aomine noticed Fukuda, then turned to Kise. “What’s up?” he said, side-eyeing the stalker.

Seeing Fukuda’s expression, Kise stepped closer to Aomine’s side, and without really thinking, slid his hand under Aomine’s and linked them together. The suddenness of it all didn’t seem to dawn on Aomine just yet (thank _god_ he was slow at non-basketball things, Kise thought), and Kise leaned closer, bumping sides with Aomine.

Fukuda was very clearly shaken and appalled. Aomine looked at Kise, about to say something, when Kise squeezed his hand in a vice grip, hoping to all the gods and horoscopes that he would _please_ get the hint. “I’m going out with him,” he said. “Sorry.”

Fukuda’s features twitched, his hands and shoulders shaking, as if he was trying his best to hold himself back in both fear and frustration. His fists were clenched tight at his sides, knuckles white, and his blood seemed to boil at his head, nostrils flaring.

“O-okay,” he said curtly, almost strangled, then turned on his heel and bolted, yelling, “Dammit! Bastaaard—!”

When he was out of sight, Kise breathed out, exhaling loudly in relief, slumping down in a low hunch. “That was _really_ stressful,” he sighed, a hand on his chest as he slouched.

“Kise…” Aomine drawled, deep, bending slightly to stare right at Kise.

He still hadn’t let go of his hand.

Kise immediately released his hold and jumped back, blushing. “S-sorry Aominecchi! You see, someone’s been following me for a few days now. I think it was that guy just now. Fukuda.”

“Following? Like a _stalker_?”

Kise scratched the back of his neck. “Y-yeah. It’s been creeping me out, honestly. And then he just confessed to me.”

Aomine whistled. “Like a _love confession_? Damn, even _guys_ are falling for you now, huh?”

Kise covered his face with his hands. “I’m not sure what to think about that,” he groaned.

“Eh, just some more fans an’ shit.” Aomine was already stepping back inside, then paused and turned. “But wait, what’s this about going out with me?”

Kise twitched, all that he had just done finally sinking in and sending a fresh rush of blood to his face. “Sorry,” he groaned again. “He looks like a delinquent! If I told him I had a girlfriend, I don’t know _what_ he’d do to the girl. Then I saw you. I guess I thought that if it was a scary-looking guy like you, then he’d give up.”

“Scary-looking—why you—!” Aomine squinted at him, growling. If he had a basketball at hand it would have been flying at Kise’s face then.

Kise held his hands up. “Sorry, sorry! I meant intimidating! I thought he’d back down if he saw how much stronger you are.”

The compliment seemed to ebb Aomine’s annoyance, making him grumble a sigh and scratch his head, brows furrowed. “Did you see the look in his eyes, though? He looks like the persistent type, that one.”

Kise grimaced, then shook his head and smiled, the tension and anxiety from meeting his stalker fading away like the numbness from adrenaline wearing off. His happiness at playing with Aominecchi surged back, coupled with his relief at fending off Fukuda, making him straighten up and grin, wide and mischievous, hands on his waist. “Aominecchi’s _strong_ , right? I’m sure you’d be able to deal with whatever he throws at you!”

Aomine’s eyebrow twitched, eyes squinted. “Tch,” he spat, twisting sharply on his heel towards the gym’s court. “You bet your ass I could, idiot. Now get back in and play another match with me.” And he waltzed right back in as if he owned the place, welcomed by angry finger jabbing and relentlessly blurt out challenges to play.

Kise gave a light chuckle and followed after him. He let out another breath of relief, feeling lighter than he had been in a long while, finally free from the creepy stalker.

 

* * *

 

Or not.

“Holding my hand won’t make you any better at basketball, you know.”

“What if it _did_ though? What if I’m secretly draining your basketball powers.”

It would have seemed like the usual Aomine and Kise repartee if it weren’t for their linked hands, snugly entwined at their sides. Behind them, a shadow—Fukuda, the stalker—followed, occasionally ducking behind alleys and lampposts to try to hide from the “couple’s” view.

“Basketball powers. So I’m some sort of superhero.”

“Alien. I think you mean alien.”

“Really? Are you sure I’m not just a superhero? I mean, look how awesome I am.”

“Nah, you’ve gotta be an alien. I don’t think anyone can be as obnoxious as you without having some kind of supernatural help.”

Aomine gave up on the witty banter and smacked Kise upside the head with his free hand. Kise squawked and staggered, almost losing balance but recovering by reeling to Aomine’s side, solidly knocking his head into Aomine’s jaw. Aomine grunted and rocked to one side, and then pulled Kise towards him to head butt him, forehead to forehead. The two of them yelped and staggered back, falling to the ground on their butts, never once letting go of each other’s hands.

“God _damn_ your head’s a fucking _brick wall_ ,” Aomine groaned, face pinched in pain with a hand firmly planted on his throbbing forehead.

“Are you _serious?_ _Your_ head felt like a metal bar!” Kise was scrunched low, one hand on his forehead too. He pulled his other hand free from Aomine’s to smack it on top of the other one, as if trying to push down the bump that was undoubtedly growing there. “Owowow I think I’m _bleeding_ , damn.”

“What? Come on, it wasn’t _that_ hard,” Aomine leaned over and grabbed Kise’s wrists, wrenching his hands off of his forehead and brushing his hair up, inspecting it. He winced, feeling the sting of his probably beet-red forehead, and was about to smack his hands over it again when he felt something warm press against it, softly, almost tenderly, and then it was gone.

Kise felt his head start to feel warm, a flush crawling up his throat, as his mind seemed to freeze. “Did you just—”

“You kiss injuries to make them feel better, right?” Aomine was smirking, and while Kise was positively dumbstruck, Aomine had lowered Kise’s hands from his head, gently resting them on his lap.

Kise just _stared_ at him, his face feeling hot and throat snagging. “Oh my god,” he said after a few beats. “That was _so_ weird.”

“The _fuck_ ,” Aomine grumbled, flicking at Kise’s forehead right where it was bruising.

Kise doubled over again, smacking his hands over his forehead. “Gah! Why on the same spot—!”

“Whoops, my bad. You were asking for it though—”

“Again!” Kise yelled, pouting fiercely.

“Huh?”

“Kiss it again!” He peeled his hands off of his forehead to display the further reddening area. Aomine blinked at him, actually surprised, and his cheeks seemed to vaguely darken. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it, then put his left hand on the side of Kise’s head, near the back, to pull him slightly closer, and then pressed his lips on the slightly swollen spot on Kise’s forehead.

Somehow, the pain seemed to disappear on contact, and Kise didn’t expect the way that Aominecchi’s usually strong and rough hands were so light and careful; much more that the way he kissed Kise’s bruise was full of warmth and gentleness. It was a side Kise had only been _very_ vaguely aware of, but never actually saw or experienced until now. It completely caught him off-guard, his blush deepening.

“I knew it, this is embarrassing,” he said, hiding his eyes with his bangs.

Aomine tsked and ruffled Kise’s hair, moving to stand up. “ _Your_ fault you got yourself a stalker, dumbass.” He bent to reach out to Kise, eyes shifting. He spoke under his breath, low. “Is he still there?”

Kise peered from under his bangs at the spot he last saw Fukuda. “Yeah, but I think he’s about to give up for the day. I saw him fuming just now.”

“Heh. I’m getting better at this,” Aomine said as he helped Kise up.

“You mean _we_.”

Aomine ignored him. “You know, I could just beat him up or something. Save us the trouble of all the pretending-to-be-boyfriends shit.”

Kise punched his arm. “I _told_ you, it’s a crime to beat people up. Plus it might hurt my image—says my agent. Besides, remember that day I dragged you off your ass to meet Mai—”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Aomine shrugged. “And I am eternally grateful for that, and I owe you and all that shit.” He sighed, defeated, but looked pretty haughty from remembering the experience. “But damn, we fight every fucking time we see each other, it’s _gotta_ look suspicious to the guy.”

“Ugh, it’s been like this since _middle school_ ,” Kise complained, rubbing his forehead, which was turning blue where it got thumped.

“Does it still hurt?”

“The what?” Kise blinked, glancing at Aomine, who pointedly looked at his forehead. “Oh, this? Nah, not that much anymore. But I think it’s swollen. _What?_ What are you so happy about?”

Aomine was grinning, totally smug. “See? Superhero.”

Kise rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

 

It was a little before lunch when Kise slunk out of the train station, ducking behind pillars and dashing into alleyway shortcuts to shake off his stalker. When the prickling behind his neck eased, he stooped low and found refuge in the nearest restaurant to pass the time—he was supposed to meet Aominecchi _after_ lunch, but after opening his curtains to the sight of binoculars aimed at him from a building away, he shuddered and ran for it. And now he was hours too early and not quite inconspicuously clad in a gigantic scarf, sunglasses, and a beanie: his “disguise” to hide his identity.

“Kise-kun?”

Kise jumped, a jolt of shock zapping him out of his seat. Beside him sat a slight, sky blue-haired teen with a milkshake at hand, raised slightly from the table Kise nearly knocked over. Peering from over his shades, Kise blinked. “Kurokocchi?!”

Kuroko cocked his head slightly, sipping at his probably vanilla milkshake. “Hello, Kise-kun.”

“I—er, _hi_ ,” Kise said, sinking back down on his seat. “You were probably here before me, huh?”

Kuroko nodded. “Are you here to try out the new burger too?”

Kise followed his gaze at the tray in front of him—in his rush, Kise had ordered a burger without really thinking, and it turned out to be some new kind of burger in the fast-food restaurant—Maji Burger, apparently. “Oh, no, not really. I just had to escape somewhere and ended up here.

“Escape—?” Kuroko started, when suddenly a tray of burgers landed atop their table, followed by a gigantic soda and a bag of large fries.

“Ah, Kagamicchi!” Kise perked up.

The redhead in question blinked in surprise, then squinted. “ _Kise?_ What’s with the sunglasses?”

Kise sighed and plucked the shades off. “I was trying to hide my identity,” he said, burrowing lower into his scarf with a pout. “Guess it’s not working out.”

Kagami sat down on the seat across them, unwrapping a burger. “You bet it isn’t. You stick out like a banana.”

“A banana…?”

“Kagami-kun, it’s ‘stick out like a sore thumb’,” Kuroko offered.

“But Kise’s all sparkly and yellow. Like a banana. If someone would stick out like a sore thumb it would be me, since I have red hair and all,” Kagami said in between chewing—or more like _swallowing—_ his second burger.

Kuroko didn’t bother to dignify that with a response, and turned to Kise. “So what was that about escaping, Kise-kun?”

“Eshcaping? You runninh from shomeone?” Kagami slurred, apparently finding it more productive to eat _two_ burgers at a time.

“Please eat like a proper human being, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko said, staring at Kagami with a look that made Kise pat him on the head.

Seeing Kagamicchi eat reminded Kise of his own hunger, so he unwrapped his single burger and chomped on it. “You shee,” he started, munching on the burger and finding that he liked the taste. “For the pasht few days, shomeone’s been following me.”

“ _What?_ ” Kagami exclaimed, actually pausing his chewing. He downed a burger with a gulp of his soda and was about to continue when something behind Kise caught his eye, surprising him. “Ah! Aomi— _blegh!_ ”

Without warning, a basketball had shot itself at Kagami’s face and rebounded back into Aomine’s hand. He stood behind their table wearing light clothing and an annoyed-as-hell scowl, and behind him Momoi had just run into his back.

“Dai-chan why did you suddenly stop!” She complained, tottering to his side with a scrunched up face.

“I saw a dumbass so I felt like hurling something at him,” Aomine scoffed, spinning the basketball on a finger.

“Well fuck you too, asshole,” Kagami snapped, rubbing at his nose. “Let’s take this outside, yeah? One-on-one!”

“Kagami-kun, finish your food first,” Kuroko said, shoving a half-eaten burger in Kagami’s mouth. “And then wait for at least half an hour before playing or you’ll get stomach problems. For which coach will make you do extra training.”

Kagami growled, low, but continued his chewing.

“Try to eat like a proper human being this time, dumbass.”

“That’s what I told him,” Kuroko said, nodding.

Kagami incoherently grumbled out an exasperated groan, tearing through his burgers in a flurry.

“Kyaa! Tetsu-kun!” Momoi bounced, suddenly elated at seeing Kuroko. She then noticed the hunched up figure next to him. “And Ki-chan!”

Kise had been a bit engrossed in enjoying his burger, finishing the last of it and turning to Momoi. “Momoicchi! And—Aominecchi?!”

“Yo,” Aomine said. “Didn’t think I’d see you here. We were supposed to meet _after_ lunch, right?”

Kise grimaced, remembering why he was actually there. “Yeah, about that—I saw _him_ when I opened my curtains today.”

A flash of surprise and anger passed Aomine’s features. “Are you serious? That bastard—“

 “Calm down, Aominecchi! It’s okay! I just freaked out a bit is all,” Kise waved both hands, panicky. “I didn’t think I’d run into you guys here!” He smiled, looking genuinely happy about it.

It seemed to abate Aomine’s irritation, making him sigh and plop down on the seat across him, next to Kagami, who growled at him.

“Kagami-kun, proper human being. Please make an attempt.”

Kagami tossed some fries at Kuroko.

“Hey! Don’t throw food at Tetsu-kun!” Momoi scolded. She was about to say something else when her stomach grumbled, loud enough that everyone at the table could hear. She blushed. “Geh, I’m so hungry! Stupid Dai-chan and that new burger!”

“Hey,” Aomine held his hands up. “You said you wanted to try it too! Go get them, then!”

She kicked his shin before turning to Kuroko, who had just slurped his vanilla shake dry. “Tetsu-kun! Would you like another vanilla shake?”

“It’s alright, Momoi-san, I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Kuroko said, although he looked at his empty milkshake cup like he had expected more from it.

At least that, Momoi could read. She giggled and waved her hand, already heading to the counter. “It’s no problem! One large vanilla milkshake, coming up!” And she bounced away.

“Stupid Satsuki,” Aomine muttered under his breath, clutching his shin. “Of all the days she’d wear those pointy shoes…”

“So what’s this about someone at your curtains, Kise-kun?” Kuroko inquired, still trying to drink from his already empty cup. “And someone following you?”

Kise was still chuckling at Aomine’s brief scuffle with Momoi, and waved a hand to dismiss the other’s worries. “Ahh, nothing, really,” he said, smiling. “I guess it’s a model thing.”

Kuroko looked at him, curious. “You do look like a proper celebrity now. It becomes more obvious when you wear those kinds of accessories, you know.”

Kise frowned like a kid, fake-crying. “I tried, okay!”

“Idiot got himself a stalker,” Aomine chimed in, stealing some of Kagami’s fries. “And a persistent one, too. Been fucking following us around the whole damn week.”

Kise rested his cheek on his palm, sighing. “And today I saw him across my window with _binoculars_.”

In the corner of his eye, outside the window beside them, Aomine noticed a shadow, and in the midst of battling with Kagami’s smacks at Aomine’s french-fry-pilfering, he managed to snatch a few and use his free hand to stuff a burger in Kagami’s mouth.

“Here, Kise,” he said, reaching across the table. “Say _‘aah~’_ ”

“Hm? _‘Aah~’_?” Kise had turned his head and opened his mouth without really thinking, and suddenly he was eating a french fry Aomine fed him.

A french fry _Aomine fed him._

In that moment, a tray crashed onto the ground, clattering with the weight of three burgers on it. To the side, Kagami started choking, and across him, Kuroko had crushed his empty cup with one hand and had retreated to the edge of the seat, his face obviously struggling to stay straight. Kise was pink.

“Oh my god,” Momoi breathed, her face the picture of perfect shock. “Oh my god, what did I just witness.”

Kuroko seemed to snap back into reality when Kagami started pounding on his chest as he choked. Beside him, Aomine was rolling his eyes, apparently having reacted fast enough to catch the vanilla milkshake before it fell to the ground. He grunted and shoved the drink at Kagami, who gratefully glugged, clearing his throat.

“Oh my god,” was the first thing he spat out.

Aomine rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

 

“Geez, give us a warning next time!” Momoi whined, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. “I thought I was gonna have a heart attack.”

“I thought I was gonna _die_ ,” Kagami added.

“Screw you, you were choking because you eat like a dumbass.”

Kagami started strangling Aomine. Kuroko ignored them. “I understand the stalker part, but how did you get Aomine-kun to agree to being your boyfriend?”

“ _Pretend_ boyfriend,” Kise corrected, chewing on his second burger, vaguely aware of his stalker’s eyes on him. “I had a shoot with Mai-cha— _Horikita Mai-san_ —you know, the idol Aominecchi has all the photo books of? I managed to get him to meet her, so he totally owes me for that.”

Kuroko nodded, seeing the logic. He looked at Aomine (who was shoving at Kagami’s face while Kagami throttled him), and Kuroko’s face softened, as if relieved, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Kise saw the affection in his eyes, the care that he regarded Aomine with, as his former light and best friend. It made Kise’s heart swell, knowing that Aominecchi had someone like Kurokocchi and Momoicchi—and even Kagamicchi—sticking by him.

“Ki-chan, thanks for sticking with Dai-chan,” Momoi suddenly said, giving Aomine the same tender look Kuroko did. “And dragging him off his butt. Even if it’s because of some really creepy stalker. He’s been livelier this past week. He even played basketball! With your team!” It looked like a dream come true for her.

Kise spluttered on his burger, a blush creeping up his throat. He didn’t understand _why_ he kept blushing these days. “Yeah, he gave my senpai a lot of trouble.”

Momoi giggled, bubbly, and happier than she’s been in a while. “I would hope he did!”

The troublemaker in question jumped out of the seat, having broken free of Kagami. “Okay, that’s it, I was going to fucking play with _Kise_ , not wrestle with a burger dumbass. We’re going.” He stomped away and reached for Kise, and he was sure that Aomine would have hauled him up by his arm, but instead, Aomine slid his hand under his, almost gently wrapping his hand around it, tugging him up. He did it so easily and nonchalantly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and Kise stumbled at the effortlessness of it, disoriented.

“A-Aominecchi…” Kise began, not quite sure what he wanted to say. Instead he squeezed Aomine’s hand and let himself be pulled. He distantly thought he saw Fukuda hiding by a corner just outside Maji Burger, but he didn’t give it much more thought. It may have been for acting purposes, but the hand holding wasn’t so bad.

“Hey _hey_ , you’re gonna play right?” Kagami was right at their heels, half-dragging Kuroko by his collar behind him. “Let’s go on a two-on-two!”

It ended up becoming a mess of wrestling to be Kuroko’s teammate and trying to prove that Aomine can’t win alone against the Kagami-Kuroko-Kise team—the latter of which ending up in failure and Kuroko planking on the ground, motionless.

“Tetsu-kun, don’t die!” Momoi cried, running towards the fallen Kuroko with a Pocari in hand.

“One more!” Kise wheezed, lying on his back on the ground. Behind him, Kagami called out “Yeah! One more!” while he carried Kuroko on the bench.

Aomine huffed, hair and clothes sticking to him with sweat. He panted lightly, but looked livelier and more awake, the edge of annoyance vanishing from his scowl. He moved forward to stand over Kise, and bent to offer him his hand. “So stand up, idiot,” Aomine said, and Kise breathed out a chuckle before taking his hand, a light flush on his cheeks (which he supposed was because of how tired he was right after playing).

“Gah, I feel like puking,” Kagami shuddered, grimacing at them.

A basketball flew to his face.

 

* * *

 

The sky had already turned orange by the time they decided that Kuroko was pretty much done for, and that rolling on the ground was no way to play basketball. Kagami had already yelled out his plans for their next street ball meet-up and parted with that, carrying a lifeless Kuroko on his back, who Momoi decided to follow, just to make sure he gets home safely. Kise caught her giving Aomine a wink, and tilted his head to one side, not understanding what it meant.

He waved the thought away and lifted his head to look at Aomine. “Aominecchi, one more match, yeah?”

Aomine raised an eyebrow at him, hooking the basketball under his arm. “You’re lying on the ground,” he pointed out.

“No shit,” Kise panted, leaning his head back on the ground. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing, then heaved himself up to a sitting position, the muscles on his arms and abdomen screaming in protest. He leaned back on his arms, groaning.

“Nah, I’m tired,” came Aomine’s reply, and suddenly he was lying on the ground, dropping his head onto Kise’s lap. Kise froze, then bent to look at him, and midnight blue eyes stared back, rapt. Kise thought of how he’d always wanted Aominecchi to focus on him just like he did now—to completely grab his attention at every basketball game, to see Kise play and _know_ that he was there _because_ of him.

He vaguely noticed that he had leant down until their faces were inches apart, as if having been pulled by Aominecchi’s gaze. It felt like they were stuck there, just staring at each other, for what seemed like an _hour_ , before Aomine raised a hand to hover near Kise’s head, and tentatively stroked his hair.

Kise swallowed, and was first to break the silence. “I-is he there?” he asked, and he wanted to check if his stalker was lurking nearby, but couldn’t seem to look away.

“Nnn,” was all Aomine mumbled, which Kise took as a ‘yes’. Probably. Maybe. So they had to make their ‘act’ look convincing. Okay. But Kise’s head was spinning, and Aominecchi was staring so intently, and his hand was touching his hair—

And suddenly, a light laugh escaped Aomine’s lips, his face smoothing into an expression of calm contentment. A lump seemed to form at Kise’s throat. “What?” he stammered.

“I think I get what the magazine people mean by ‘golden boy’,” Aomine spoke, pinching the ends of Kise’s hair. “You look like the sun.”

Kise froze at the blunt honesty, his apparently pounding heart staggering. A blush boiled up to his head, and his throat snagged, all coherence escaping him.

And without really thinking, he half-collapsed on Aomine’s head, pressing his lips on the ace’s forehead.

When he pulled back, Aomine blinked at him.

“Something must be wrong with your head,” Kise sputtered, trying to fight his blush down and distract himself from his hammering heart. “So I kissed it to make it get better.”

Aomine’s cheeks seemed to darken—but that was probably because the setting sun was casting shadows everywhere…right?—then he ruffled Kise’s hair fondly, smirking. “Dumbass, nothing’s wrong with my head.”

And he pulled Kise’s head closer to his, pressing their foreheads together. Aomine’s eyes fluttered shut, and he lazily stroked Kise’s hair as he inhaled, matching their breathing. Kise’s heart was still making a racket in his chest, but a quiet calm seemed to settle around them, and all he could hear and feel was Aomine’s breath dancing with his, the warmth of his forehead, the gentleness of his hand on his hair. Kise had instinctively shut his eyes as well, and after a moment, he felt Aomine move, his hand softly pressing down on the back of Kise’s head. Then Kise felt something warm on the corner of his mouth. And he realized that it was Aomine’s lips, and his mind sort of shut down.

Aomine’s hand moved to rest on Kise’s cheek, and he shifted slightly before freezing to a stop, as if just now realizing what he was doing. His eyes snapped open and his head jerked up, smacking right into Kise’s forehead. The suddenness of it all made a reverberating thud in their skulls, sending Kise careening back with a yelp, and Aomine rolling off his lap cursing.

“Fuckit, not _again_ ,” Aomine cussed, lying on his side with hands clamped over his forehead.

“I swear to god Aominecchi— _metal wall_ , your head is a _metal wall_ ,” Kise wailed, already feeling a headache coming on. He thought of how badly they might have looked to Fukuda, how he might have seen that they were just putting on an act, what with the constant head butting and bantering. Wincing, Kise checked to look for his stalker, but after turning his head back and forth, practically going through all 360 degrees around him, he realized—

–his stalker wasn’t there.

To one side, Aomine had rolled around to stand up, one hand still resting on his forehead. He shook his head, stumbling a bit, and grunted. He was wincing when he looked at Kise, and then stuck out his hand. “Geez, come on, let’s go,” he grumbled. “Before we get anymore bruises, dammit.”

Kise gaped at him, but took his hand, letting himself be hauled up. Aomine ruffled his hair and went to pick up their bags, tossing Kise’s over with little effort. Kise caught it with one hand, mind still processing the significance of Fukuda not being there. It was supposed to make sense when Kise felt Aomine’s hand grab ahold of his, but all he came up with was a very confused: “He’s not here, though?”

“Hm?” Aomine side-eyed him, rubbing at his forehead. “The stalker bastard? So?”

“S-so?” Kise glanced at their locked hands.

Aomine seemed to realize what he meant and stiffened, looking away. Kise noticed how the tips of his ears were pink. “Like I said,” Aomine grumbled out, his hand tensing against Kise’s. “So what. Do you want me to do something or something?”

“I’m…confused,” Kise said, but he didn’t make a move to let go. “I don’t get what you’re…getting at.”

“I don’t know okay,” Aomine sighed, but his hand softened. “Maybe it’s because you play basketball, so you handle basketballs a lot, so your hand’s kind of like a basketball? And I like basketball, and, well, handling basketballs, so I guess I mean that I’ve fucking said ‘basketball’ a dozen fucking times now and that I like holding your hand.”

Kise blinked, and once again felt his face heat up. “What the heck.” He looked down at his feet as they walked, hand in hand, completely at a loss on what to think about the current situation. All that really registered was basketball. “How can my hand be like a basketball?”

Aomine put a hand over his face, groaning. “Seriously?”

“No I mean—” Kise had raised his other hand to look at it, and then got a mental picture of a basketball for a hand, right atop his wrist. He imagined how Aominecchi might have liked holding it and having trouble trying to get it through the hoop and just lost it. He puffed, then broke out laughing, clutching his stomach with his free hand as his muscles protested against his shaking. “Ack,” he gasped in between sniggers, feeling tears at his eyes. “Ow, laughing hurts. Gahahaha.”

Aomine stared at him like he was growing mushrooms on his head, but he was smirking. “What are you laughing about, moron.”

“Just—” Kise was wheezing, raising his free hand up. “Basketball.”

Aomine seemed to get it, his face breaking out into an amused grin as he shoved his free hand at Kise’s face. Kise laughed even harder, all his straining muscles throbbing in complaint. He ignored the stinging, feeling light, his exhaustion somehow disappearing. He hadn’t felt like this in a long while, not with any of his former middle school teammates, and especially not with Aominecchi. He missed it. And it felt weird that it was somehow thanks to his stalker, and it might have been different now, but it felt like home.

 

* * *

 

The next week, Kise had a sneaking suspicion that Fukuda may have become something other than a stalker, especially with how particularly shiny his binoculars were glinting from a building away. He couldn’t quite put a name to it, but Fukuda wasn’t just… _stalking_ anymore. Kise felt an overwhelming urge to yank the curtains shut and flee, but it was Monday and there was school, and more importantly, there was basketball practice. He sucked it up and tromped to school, feeling goose bumps at his neck and getting kicked the moment he tried to cling to Kasamatsu-senpai because of it.

“Senpaaai, you’re a third year, please talk to him!” Kise wailed, keeping a vice grip on Kasamatsu’s arm.

Kasamatsu shoved at him, blushing at the attention he was getting because of his stupid model kouhai and his stupid model popularity. “Get off me! I’m your captain, not your boyfriend!”

“But my boyfriend’s not heeere,” Kise drawled, shuddering at the prickling at his neck. “And we’re just acting! You know that, right?”

Kasamatsu snorted, breaking free from Kise’s grip and smacking his face an arm’s length away. “ _Yeah right_ ,” he barked, ducking around to avoid Kise’s flailing arms. “I see the way you look at him, Kise. You can say you’re idolizing him all you want but it takes a special kind of human to stick with an insufferable asshole like that.”

Kise was brought short with his flailing, and his captain’s words drove home something Kise himself had been trying to piece together in his head. “Wha-what are you _saying_ senpai?” his arms went slack and his face started feeling warm. “You can’t possibly think Aominecchi and I could—”

Kasamatsu adjusted his blazer, shrugging. “Why not? You guys look good together. And I think you’re good for each other.”

Kise didn’t know how to respond to that, mouth hanging open. Memories of the past Saturday’s happenings flashed in his head. Kagamicchi and Kurokocchi playing with him and Aominecchi. Lying on the ground and Aominecchi’s head on his lap. Aomine’s hand on his hair. Their foreheads touching.

He stumbled after Kasamatsu and yanked on his coat, jolting him backwards. “K-Kasamatsu-senpai! What’s wrong?? Do you know what you’re saying??”

And suddenly a strong blow to the back sent Kise lurching forward. “Oi, Kise! Stop looking adorable, you’re hogging all the girls’ attention!”

“Moriyama-senpai!” Kise turned to him, and Moriyama was met with the full force of innocent shock and embarrassment in Kise’s expression, making the senior stagger backwards.

“Sh-shit,” Moriyama said, smacking a hand over Kise’s face to cover it and push it away. “I said stop looking adorable, dammit! Don’t make me try to question my tastes!”

Kise garbled on Moriyama’s hand, and Kasamatsu drew back his blazer from Kise’s grip, making him stumble backwards. “Geez, get off me I said!” Kasamatsu yelled, hauling Kise up and flicking his ear. “Look, your stalker’s not your classmate, so you can rest easy during class. Which is about to start. So git!” With that, he kicked Kise away and sent him tumbling in Moriyama’s direction.

Moriyama caught him, steadying him as he adjusted his blazer and flicked a hand over his hair, fixing Kise’s bangs. He then gave him a shove, smirking. “And stay there until you fix your face! Make it less attractive.”

“And come to practice!” Kasamatsu, already near the end of the hall, called out.

Kise huffed, thoroughly confused. He didn’t know what to make of Kasamatsu-senpai’s words, and his thoughts, and that mystery with Fukuda. Moriyama ruffled his hair, smiling. “Hey,” he said, making Kise turn to face him. “Kasamatsu’s right, you said that Fukuda-bastard is a second year, so he won’t be able to bother you in class, at least.” He gave Kise pats on either side of his arms, then practically manhandled him to turn and gave him a push. “So just relax, yeah? We’ll be with you during practice anyway.”

Kise turned to look at him, touched by his senpai’s concern. Moriyama smirked and turned on his heel, but paused and looked over his shoulder. “Oh, and your boyfriend’s coming over again, right? He’s an obnoxious brat, but I know he won’t let that stalker near you. ‘Cause he’s your boyfriend.”

“Moriyama-senpaaai,” Kise cried. Moriyama snickered as he walked away, waving.

 

* * *

 

Class turned out to be Kise’s personal life-problem-solving hours, at least until he had gathered his thoughts and smacked his cheeks to straighten up. A week had already passed and his stalker still hadn’t let up. He _did_ appear less often, ever since initiating the pretend relationship with Aominecchi, and the displays of affection seemed to ward him further away—but not enough to get him to stop stalking him. Maybe there wasn’t enough proof of their ‘relationship’. Maybe there was something they hadn’t shown Fukuda yet that still made him suspicious, but—

“But what could it be?” Kise grumbled, collapsing on his desk, scratching his head with both hands. He stayed like that for a few minutes, coming up with nothing at all, when suddenly the ring of the bell made him jerk in surprise. Somehow, without him noticing, class had already ended, and it felt like a rock was dropped on his stomach. Outside of class there was little distinction between the year levels, and he wasn’t very hard to miss.

Kise sighed and heaved himself off his chair, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He supposed that he was used to being stalked by now, but it still made him uneasy, and Fukuda’s delinquent look didn’t help either. He’ll have to think about some kind of new plan of action during practice, then, maybe ask Moriyama-senpai or Aominecchi about what else they could do…

A vibration in his pocket distracted Kise from his thoughts. He fished out his cellphone and flipped it open: Momoicchi sent him a message.

 _Ki-chan! Dai-chan forgot his jersey and change of clothes!_ o(-`д´- ○) _Could you please lend him your clothes first? I have a meeting in a bit so I’ll be late_ (-___-; )

Kise caught himself smiling, already feeling lighter about seeing Aominecchi again.

 _No problem!_ (*´・ｖ・) _Don’t overwork yourself Momoicchi!_ (´・ω・)ﾉ

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow ducking behind a post. The hairs behind his neck prickled, but he ignored it.

 _You too! Have fun with Dai-chan!_ (○゜ε＾○)

Kise raised an eyebrow at the ever-deceiving emoticons of text, but shrugged, dumping his bag in the locker room and changing. A thought occurred to him then, and he took out his cell phone again and typed in a message.

 _Ne, Momoicchi, what would make a person give up on someone who’s in a relationship_ ( ・◇・)？

He pushed send and stuffed his phone back in his bag, making a mental note to check for a reply when he got a break. He pulled out an extra jersey from his bag and brought it with him to the gym, dropping it on a bench before going to warm up.

It wasn’t long before Aominecchi showed up, still wearing his Touou school uniform. A couple of Kaijo regulars immediately yelled at him to get warmed up, and Kise chuckled when Aomine scoffed at them, tossing Kise a Pocari.

“Satsuki told me to get this for you,” Aomine grumbled. “Because you’re lending me your clothes, she says.”

“Ah right,” Kise pointed to the bench. “I’ve got a spare jersey you could use. You can change in the locker room—I said _locker room_.”

Aomine had already pulled off his polo shirt while walking in the direction of the locker room, already topless before he even got to the door. Kise shoved him inside and shut the door, feeling a weird pang of protectiveness over Aominecchi’s shirtlessness. He shook his head and bounded back to practice, falling into the rhythm of their drills without problem. When Aomine stepped out of the locker room, he was wearing the bottom half of his Touou basketball uniform, and the white jersey of Kaijo. His appearance strongly reminded Kise of the Aominecchi back in Teiko—the white Kaijo jersey looked so much like their former Teiko one—and it gave Kise a surprising wave of nostalgia, making him pause.

“Doesn’t look right,” Moriyama spoke, panting lightly. “Our white Kaijo jersey is too pure for that guy."

“Is that yours, Kise?” Kobori asked, waiting for his turn to do the next drill. “Why is he wearing it?”

“Ohh! I know! It’s a _kare-shirt!_ ” Moriyama blurt in, his expression snickering. “Right, Kise?”

“ _Senpaai!_ ” Kise grimaced, but felt his cheeks warm. It wasn’t that much of a big deal that Aominecchi was borrowing his clothes—they’d switched clothes plenty of times before that they probably still had a couple of each others’ shirts at home—but there was something about it being his _jersey_ , after Moriyama-senpai pointed it out, that made it seem different. Right there was something Kise didn’t realize he really, really missed until recently, as he stood right there in their gym, wearing their jersey, looking like the basketball genius Kise had admired even when he had risen up to be his teammate. The feeling seemed to grip at his heart, and he could have sworn that it _ached_ , and Aomine was asking him if he could drink some of the Pocari he brought while already putting it to his lips, and Kise just looked at him, something sinking into his head, slowly, piecing his thoughts together.

_It takes a special kind of human to stick with an insufferable asshole like that._

_Thanks for sticking with Dai-chan._

Kise caught a basketball and dribbled it across the court, bounding around cones to the paint and finishing with a lay-up. Aomine was watching from the side, still not making any move to do any physical activity.

_You look like the sun._

Kise shook his head, fighting down the blood that was crawling up his face. He moved to the back of the line and made an effort to avoid looking at Aominecchi. He wasn’t even sure if Aomine was watching him, but it felt worse than being sure that a stalker was following him. The way Aomine’s dark blue eyes could _stare_ , and how it sent these weird electric sparks around Kise’s body, and especially when he _smiled_ , just like how he used to beam at playing a match he truly enjoyed—it all tightened around Kise’s chest, and he couldn’t understand _why_.

“Hello? Kise? Are you still with us?” Kasamatsu suddenly popped up, waving a hand over Kise’s face.

Kise blinked. “Huh? Yeah...? Why?”

Kasamatsu-senpai rested a hand on his hip, his other arm cradling a basketball at his side. “You look like you’re having a flashback or something. Did you miss it?”

“Miss what?” Kise followed his captain’s glance, which rested on Aomine, who had taken possession of a basketball and was watching them boredly.

“The old Teiko-Aomine,” Kasamatsu said, giving the ball a few dribbles. “When I saw him wearing that, it gave me flashbacks of the time my middle school team got pummeled by Teiko. You weren’t in the team yet, but he was put as a regular in a match.” The captain made a grimace sort of smile. “I remember my seniors being pretty pissed that Teiko sent out a _freshman_ power forward against us, but that brat Aomine sure showed us. I think he got like fifty points in that match alone."

At the three-point line, Moriyama had shot the ball in the wrong rhythm, and he was already wincing at the ball most likely missing. Another basketball suddenly flew from the side and bumped Moriyama’s, making it go in the hoop with a bounce, the other ball following after it, all net. The others turned to look at the magical second shooter and saw that it was Aomine, looking bored as hell and grinning to make fun of Moriyama and his unorthodox shooting. They had already started bickering with each other when Kise snickered. The scene felt oddly familiar.

“Yeah, that sounds like Aominecchi,” he said, amused at the sight of Aomine getting manhandled into the court by two of Kise’s seniors. “I guess I miss seeing him around practice like this.”

Kasamatsu gave him a solid pat on the back and passed him the ball, looking thoughtful. “Maybe I should ask coach to get him to transfer here.”

Kise gaped at him. “What.”

“But nah, I don’t think Touou will let go of this guy, no matter how much of a brat he is,” Kasamatsu shrugged. “And you’re enough to handle as it is.” He shuddered at the mental image of _both_ Aomine and Kise on their team, and the endeavor that was being their captain. He could only _imagine_ how the Teiko seniors managed to survive the _Generation of Miracles_.

Kise gave a chuckle, moving forward in the line. He turned to look at Kasamatsu again. “Hey senpai? What did you mean when you said that Aominecchi and I were ‘good for each other’? You see this bruise on my forehead? It’s his fault again. Like the last one. I don’t think any risk of concussions can be considered good for anyone.”

Kasamatsu bonked the back of Kise’s head. “Stop bumping heads with that guy, idiot—even _you_ can’t compete with his hard-headedness.” He gave a shrug. “And you play better when he’s around.”

Kise blinked at him. “I do?”

Kasamatsu grunted. “Yeah. You move better, without wasting energy. Your overall performance improves when you’re up against him—you should be consistent with that, dammit!

Kise was dumbstruck. Kasamatsu nudged him forward on the line. “Plus it seems like even Aomine can’t afford to go easy on you, so he definitely looks happier when he plays against you. It’s a mutual thing, or something. And hey! It’s your turn!”

Kise stumbled into the drill and weaved through the cones, still disoriented. He was able to cut past a defender, but when he went for the shot, it missed.

“Ah dammit all, people keep missing today,” Kasamatsu groaned, then he huffed and raised his voice. “Alright, let’s take a break! Ten minutes!”

Kise winced, scratching the back of his head. He glanced around and saw that Aominecchi had been unwillingly dragged off his butt and was making a very concerted effort to keep knocking away any of the shots the Kaijou regulars were trying to make, be it by blocking or stealing or tossing basketballs at other basketballs. It had been surprisingly good practice for the Kaijou members, but the mess of basketballs it left had Kasamatsu yelling at all of them to clean it up during the break. Of course, Aomine fled from _that_ disaster.

“Hey Kise,” he said, sweating slightly. “Let’s play.”

Kise picked up the Pocari Aomine gave him and unscrewed the lid, and then stopped. Aominecchi drank from the same bottle just a little while ago. The thought somehow made Kise think twice about putting it near his lips. “Wait, let me catch my breath Aominecchi,” he said, giving a wonky smile, and then remembered something. “Ah, I have to check something first. Here.” Kise handed Aomine the bottle, picked up his own water jug, and waved as he trotted to the locker room. “Don’t attack my senpai! I’ll be right back!”

He heard Aomine snort, “I’m not promising anything!” he called after Kise, making him laugh.

After he closed the door to the locker room, Kise exhaled, taking a swig of his water and grabbing a small towel for his face. He padded towards his locker and pulled out his phone, finding that Momoicchi had replied.

(‘◇’)? _It depends on the person, but usually if they see the other person holding hands with their lover!_ ♡(*´∀｀*)人(*´∀｀*)♡

That wasn’t so helpful, Kise thought, then opened Momoicchi’s next message, and then promptly smacked a hand over his face, immediately feeling it warm.

 _But they’ll definitely give up if they see them kiss!_ (ʃƪ ˘ ³˘)♡♡♡

“Right, of course,” Kise shut his eyes, breathing in deep, and then put his phone back in his bag. He let out a breath, and then walked—or more like _wobbled_ —back to the court.

When he got back out, he was met with the sight of Aominecchi and two Kaijou seniors wrestling on the ground, about half a dozen basketballs scattered around them. The other Kaijou members surrounded them, chanting incomprehensively, while Kasamatsu had settled on a bench, looking like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

Kise had a feeling that it was going to be a _long_ afternoon practice.

 

* * *

 

If anyone had thought it weird that a tall, tanned, scowling teen standing beside Kise was wearing Kaijou’s basketball jersey and the bottom half of another school’s basketball uniform, no one spoke a word about it. Although Kise supposed that more of the attention was towards the fact that said scowling teen was sporting a nosebleed identical to Kise’s, and no matter how scandalized the female population was at the damage to the model’s face, a nosebleed apparently seemed to look good on him nonetheless.

“I knew I hated practice,” Aomine grumbled, dabbing at the spot under his nostrils that was leaking blood. “I’m definitely skipping the one tomorrow.”

“You’re not even a student at this _school_ ,” Kise sighed, inclining his head slightly to keep the blood from dripping to his clothes. “Besides, coach is coming back from the faculty trip in a few days, so I don’t think you can crash randomly anymore. And don’t even think about using my jersey to wipe your nosebleed.”

Aomine froze in the middle of doing just that, the jersey lifted over his stomach as he held it near his face. The girls who were busy glancing at Kise did a double take on Aomine then—broad shoulders, strapping arms, well-built abs and all. Kise felt self-conscious for _him_ and smacked his hand to release the shirt. Aomine pouted at him.

“You are such a _child_ ,” Kise muttered, averting his eyes. “Let’s wash up here.”

They came up to the outdoor faucets and cleaned out their nosebleeds there, and somehow it became some screwed up water splashing battle that ended with Kasamatsu catching them in the middle of it and pummeling them simultaneously. They were already half-soaked and bruised by the time it was their turn to shower, and Kise was thankful that Kaijou had such good funding for their sports facilities that they could each have their own shower cubicle—the kinds that were like tiny rooms instead of just small dividers that covered your lower half. He at least had some privacy there (and couldn’t be bothered by Aominecchi showering next to him).

Everyone had already gone by the time Kise stepped out of the shower, save for Kasamatsu and Moriyama. Aomine was off to the side making a strained effort of stuffing his practice clothes in his bag.

“It’s a bit chilly outside, so wear your blazers to keep warm,” Kasamatsu instructed. He glanced at Aomine, who sneezed. “You…don’t have your blazer, do you?”

Aomine sniffled, scowling. “No.”

The two seniors sighed. Moriyama pulled out his Kaijo jacket from his locker and tossed it at Aomine, who caught it with a questioning look. “Check if that fits you,” he said.

“Why,” Aomine spoke, eyeing the jacket.

“Well you gotta keep warm, right?” Moriyama raised his eyebrow, motioning with his hand for Aomine to just shut up and do it.

Aomine looked at him for a moment before pulling the jacket on. It fell short around his hips and wrists, but fit comfortably, warming him up instantly. Aomine gripped at the edges of the jacket’s opening, silent, the warmth he was feeling not just purely external anymore.

“Thanks,” he muttered, and it was barely a whisper, but it caught everyone by surprise, leaving them stunned.

“Hey, no problem,” Moriyama managed to recover, smiling. “Just return it tomorrow or give it to Kise sometime.”

Aomine nodded and picked up his bag. They left the gym together and went ahead of the seniors, who stayed to lock up. They waved at each other as they left, Aomine giving another nod goodbye.

Kise felt the hairs on his neck standing once he and Aomine were alone. He grimaced, then suddenly felt a warmth around his hand. Aomine did that thing again where it was completely effortless and natural to just slip his hand under Kise’s and link them together, and Kise didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

“Moriyama, was it?” Aomine spoke, tugging at the jacket.

“Yeah. Moriyama-senpai,” Kise replied, happy to break the silence. He smiled at Aomine’s thoughtful look. “I have good senpai, don’t you think?”

“Pretty stuck up on the seniority shit, though,” Aomine said, remembering how he was ganged up on and manhandled and bossed around even more times than that asshat Wakamatsu did.

“Yeah, they’re like that,” Kise chuckled. “But they’re good seniors. Kinda like big brothers. They might be strict sometimes, but they take care of us juniors.”

 “Yeah…They’re okay. I guess.” Aomine fumbled with the jacket again, his hand giving a very slight squeeze around Kise’s.

Kise felt a soft warmth spreading up from their linked hands. He didn’t know how it was in Touou, but from the limited times Kise’s seen them, they somewhat resembled Teiko, at least in terms of teamwork. They knew how to pass to each other, sure, but they all seemed to just rely on themselves when it came down to getting points. There was barely even a ‘friendly vibe’ going on with them, and Kise hoped that there was at least someone on the team who knew how to cook, or packed some bento—Aominecchi always _did_ snatch up food from his teammates, and he would never admit it (not his present self, at least) but it was his way of being friendly with others, of trying to form a connection, even just a little one. Kise supposed that one of the reasons Aomine was actually battling against his Kaijou seniors was because of how new it probably was to him, how they didn’t care how great you are: so long as you’re younger, they’re at least superior in age and experience—and that they’d stand in as your big brothers without being asked to. All of that Aomine had realized almost confusedly in the short time he spent with them, but even if he didn’t say it out loud, it was obvious that he appreciated it: in the way he even bothered to knock off the seniors’ shots during practice, or wrestle with them; the way that he scoffed at their barking but did as they said anyway; and in the way he fondled with the jacket that was loaned to him as if it was a precious gift.

The Kaijo seniors probably knew it, and they wouldn’t admit to it, but they had all sensed Aominecchi’s isolation and aloofness as a product of his messed up past, and barreled down on him because of it. They may have called him an obnoxious brat, but in Kise’s experience, the more physical violence that one was subjected to under the seniors meant that even if it’s just a little, they gave a shit about you enough to hit you so that you’d realize it. All of it made Kise’s chest feel warm, and he caught himself smiling happily about it, because at least he could take some credit for this particular patch of happiness that Aomine experienced.

“Hey, I didn’t get to ask a while ago,” Aomine said. “But did you see him out your window again? And did he follow you around?”

“I saw him this morning, yeah,” Kise answered, remembering grimly that his stalker was partially responsible for his current situation. “And I stayed in class for most of the day, so he didn’t really get to follow me until I went to practice.

Aomine tsked, shifting his eyes. “Is he following us now?”

Kise bit his lip. “Yeah.”

A beat passed before Aomine continued. “You think he’s suspicious or something? It’s been a _week_."

“I don’t think he realizes that our head butting is how we show affection.”

Aomine raised an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Uh huh. Really.”

Kise bumped shoulders with him. “I _know_ , okay? It’s not exactly comforting to know that someone’s following me around, but he still hasn’t given up, apparently.”

“I _told_ you he was the persistent type.” Aomine kicked at a stray bottle cap on the ground, grimacing a smile. “I guess we’re not being convincing enough.”

“Ne, Aominecchi—” Kise started, and he wasn’t sure why he was saying what he was saying. “Why don’t you come home with me?”

Kise had averted his eyes, but he felt Aomine turn his head sharply to look at him. Aomine’s grip on his hand tightened slightly, and Kise vaguely remembered how Aominecchi would squeeze him just a little as if to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, like back when he had met Horikita Mai. He remembered how Aomine would clench his fists back in middle school, during the times he was put out to play in basketball matches, and how he’d always stretch it out to Kurokocchi for fist bumps, as if he wanted to share his happiness of it all being real. It was probably an unconscious habit, Kise thought, feeling a surge of affection for the subtle pieces that completed the picture of Aomine. He gave a squeeze back, as if to say, _I’m here_.

“You mean today? Now?” came Aomine’s reply.

Kise turned his head to look at him, and immediately felt like it was a mistake. There was such open surprise on Aomine’s face, almost expectant, hovering on the edge of disbelief. Kise found himself thinking it was cute, chest throbbing, but willed his head to not turn away. “Yeah,” he managed to churn out, thankfully not sounding as squeaky as he felt. “I have an idea on how we might get that stalker to give up.”

Something flickered in Aomine’s eyes—but maybe it was just Kise’s imagination? He turned his head to look forward, then continued. “Well, more like Momoicchi gave me the idea,” he said, and felt Aomine stiffen beside him, his hand twitching against Kise’s. From the corner of his eye, he saw Aomine turn his head away from him, and heard him mutter something under his breath (Kise caught the words “stupid Satsuki” and “shit”—which was normal Aominecchi-speak, as far as Kise was concerned).

Kise paused, noticing that they were at an intersection. “Ah, this street goes to my apartment,” he said, pointing to the right. “Wanna give it a shot?"

Aomine turned back to look at him, their eyes meeting. Kise gulped. “Yeah, why not? If it works we can finally stop the act.”

Kise felt something tighten in his chest, and he averted his eyes, feeling somewhat pricked by Aomine’s words. He let out a breath and turned to the right, his hold on Aomine’s hand slackening. “Alright, let’s go.”

It wasn’t a long walk, but the silence seemed to stretch out the time, making Kise feel a trickle of sweat at his temple even though it was chilly out. Kise had shifted to let go of Aomine’s hand, feeling self-conscious about his palms getting sweaty, but Aomine kept a sturdy hold around it, moving slightly as if to keep Kise’s hand there.

There was a small relief when Kise had to let go and unlock his door, but the instant he let go, his hand felt cold glide over it, and he fought the urge to stuff it in his pocket or reach out to grab Aomine’s hand again. He went in first, leaving his shoes by the door, and felt a prickling at the back of his neck again. Aomine followed, closing the door behind him and slipping out of his shoes, whistling as he surveyed Kise’s rather large apartment.

“Nice place,” he said simply, noting the spacious living area and polished furniture.

“Thanks.” Kise shrugged off his blazer and dumped it and his bag on the couch, heading for his window behind the couch.

Behind him, Aomine pulled off Moriyama’s jacket and neatly folded it beside Kise’s things. “Wait—is he doing the binoculars thing right _now_?”

Kise was grimacing as he tentatively peered behind his curtains. Surely enough, he caught the glint of binoculars across the street, buried in the middle of some plants put up on the roof of a small building. It was just a little bit higher than Kise’s apartment floor, but from where Kise stood, the binoculars looked to be aligned right at his face. “Yeah, he’s there,” he said, tensing up at the goose bumps crawling up his skin.

He felt Aomine move closer behind him, heat radiating off of his body. “So what’s this idea you got from Satsuki?” Aomine asked, leaning his head forward, close enough to make his breath brush over Kise’s neck.

Kise tugged on his curtain a bit. “Here, move closer and then kiss me while I’m closing the curtain.”

A pause.

“ _What_.”

Kise flinched, slowly turning to look over his shoulder at Aomine, who looked back with a serious expression on his face, brows furrowed in anticipation. “What?” Kise said, blinking at him. “You just need to get close to me. Then I’ll pull on the curtains to make it look like we’re doing something else behind them.” Kise was actually proud of his little “plan” (which he had come up with at the door). They were pretty good at knocking heads, so it should be easy to fake a kiss. And then _finally_ he’d be free of his stalker and all of the acting—all the blushing and chest tightening could _not_ be healthy, Kise thought. “Come on, it shouldn’t be too hard. After this it should all be over and we can laugh about it later.”

He noticed Aomine’s throat bob as he gulped. Kise looked at him expectantly, and Aomine gave a small nod. Their eyes met for a moment, and then Kise slowly turned his head away, looking down the window. Behind him, Aomine had shifted a little to the side, and a few beats passed before he gradually leaned in from over Kise’s shoulder.

Kise tightened his hold on the edge of the curtain, bracing himself. He had to time it properly so that the stalker would see _just_ enough before the curtains hid them. In his total focus, Kise didn’t realize that his heart was racing, and that Aomine’s breathing seemed shallower, quicker. All he paid attention to was that Aomine was leaning in slowly, breath tickling the side of Kise’s neck, and his hand was hovering over Kise’s, just lightly brushing his fingers over his skin in a way that sent tingles up Kise’s arm. When he felt Aomine’s breath trickle his jaw, Kise turned slightly, meeting him halfway, ready to pull the curtain. He twitched a little when Aomine didn’t move in just yet, and a beat passed as Aomine panted faintly, his eyes dark and hooded. Kise thought he had to be the one to lean in, when suddenly Aomine tilted his head a little and then moved close, guiding a hand behind Kise’s head and kissing him full on the mouth.

All of Kise’s premeditated notions for timing the ‘act’ were completely thrown, his mind flying into a fit of surprise as he staggered to the side, and suddenly Aomine’s body was pressed against his, the hand behind Kise’s head steady but gentle. Kise’s grip on the curtain had luckily held on, at least until he felt his back pressed against the nearest wall, Aomine’s hand cushioning his head from it, and he heard a small _clang_ of the curtain reaching the end of the bar, successfully shielding them from the outside.

Kise didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath until he started feeling a little lightheaded, as Aomine just kissed him slowly, deliberately, as if he were trying to stay there for as long as he could. He tilted his head slightly, hand stroking Kise’s hair in that same way he did back in the street court: lightly but firmly, like he was holding something precious, something fragile. Kise’s one hand was on Aomine’s chest, and he faintly felt the pulse of Aomine’s heartbeat—fast and loud like his own. Kise made a sound then, in need of air, muffled by Aomine’s lips on his, and when Aomine broke contact for a bit, Kise gasped, inhaling deep, but not quite enough when Aomine leaned in again, this time more ardently, pushing himself closer. Kise’s heart started picking up its pace some more, and he had honestly started getting dizzy—

“Wai—Aomi—” he gasped in between kisses, feeling his face flush and his head getting hazy. “Ao—minecchi—wai—“ another kiss, and Aomine’s other hand was on the wall to the side of Kise’s head. “Wai—I said _wait—_!”

Kise had managed to get his arms to move in between him and Aomine, shifting enough to be able to push him a few inches back to break the kiss. They both gasped for air, panting, and Aomine stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, as if he just realized what he was doing. He ducked his head and exhaled a sigh, his breathing still quick and shallow, face flushed. Kise’s hands still lingered on Aomine’s chest and shoulder as he tried to calm his breathing.

“Sh-shit,” Aomine breathed, low.

“A-Aominecchi…” Kise managed, but he was at a loss on what to say. How to react.

“Damn,” Aomine muttered, his arm bending against the wall as he slumped, head bowed enough to rest on Kise’s shoulder. “Shit, I—”

“Sorry, Aominecchi,” Kise said, and Aomine tensed. “I had to breathe.”

Aomine looked up at him then, eyes intent with confusion and expectation. Kise shuddered under his gaze, feeling his whole body heat up. “I—uh, I guess we don’t have to keep up the act anymore?”

Dark blue eyes gazed at him closely. “No.” And Aomine’s hand moved from the back of Kise’s head to his cheek. “I—don’t want it to be an act.”

Kise swallowed, sure that his face was beet-red with how warm he felt. “Me too,” he said, and he realized that it was true—he didn’t want any of the ‘pretending’ business. He didn’t want any of that shallow necessity for closeness just because of some stalker. He wanted this—whatever was happening. The arguing, the head butting, hand holding, nose bleeding—all of it.

Aomine gave him a look then, and it made Kise feel a surge of warmth with how openly hopeful it was, so full of pure, happy _hope_ and expectancy. Kise had felt that pang of pain at Aomine’s words, about how they could ‘finally’ stop the act if the plan worked, but now all he felt was the honesty in Aomine’s eyes, the yearning in his hands; the throbbing of his heart.

“I’ve always wanted to do this since that time,” Aomine sighed, stroking the side of Kise’s jaw and sending those electric sparks from where he touched him.

Kise didn’t bother asking when that was and just moved in to kiss him, and Aomine responded instantly, humming against Kise’s lips in a way that made him wrap his arms around Aomine’s neck, threading his fingers through his short hair. He brushed his tongue across Aomine’s bottom lip, and Aomine groaned, hoarse, parting his lips and pushing closer, their bodies pressed together in a close hug. Aomine squeezed him tenderly, pulling Kise towards him as if they couldn’t get any closer, and Kise felt like he was melting, falling apart under Aomine’s hold, drunk on his reactions, the way he’s touching him, the sweet noises he makes. Kise mentally curses the limits of human lungs when he reluctantly pulls away to breathe, both of them flushed and gasping for air, in a heady daze, just holding onto each other. Kise buried his head in Aomine’s collar, feeling a shudder go through Aomine from where his lips grazed his neck, and Kise felt like he was floating.

“I meant what I said, back then,” Aomine said, his voice raspy and dark, sending a shiver up Kise’s spine.

“That my hand’s like a basketball?”

Aomine huffed. “No."

Kise lifted his head to look at him then, and Aomine _stared_. Kise let out a soft sigh and leaned in, pulling Aomine closer by his neck, his lips grazing the corner of his mouth. “That I can’t suck out your basketball powers?”

Aomine was panting against him, turning his head to brush his lips over Kise’s. His eyes were both intent and glassy; dark with a desire that made Kise feel warm all over, rousing sensations from everywhere they touched. “No.” Aomine breathed against his lips, making him shudder.

Kise was breathing just as quickly and as heavily as Aomine did, his eyes getting glazed over as he glanced at Aomine’s parted lips. “What?”

“I think I love you.”

Kise froze, his heart literally skipping a beat. That was—that was almost a _month_ ago. He searched Aomine’s eyes and found complete seriousness. “Since—that time? So long ago?”

Aomine rested his forehead on Kise’s, just like he did before, as if he was getting lost in their contact, their closeness. “I think it was…even before that,” he said, and it was barely a whisper. “But I think I realized it then."

Kise couldn’t help it then—his eyes fluttered shut in embarrassment, and he brought his hands over his face, feeling his blood crawling up his throat to the tips of his ears.

“Augh, shit, don’t do that,” Aomine muttered, moving to hold Kise’s wrists. “It’s fucking _adorable_ , damn.”

“You’re making things _worse_ ,” Kise spluttered, sinking a bit lower into the wall on his back. His head felt so light and warm, he was sure he was fully red in the face. A huge load off his shoulders that he didn’t know was there seemed to fade away, and he felt so _happy_ , it felt like he would burst from it.

“Are you—are you _crying_?” Aomine sounded panicked, fumbling around Kise’s hands and tugging at them.

“Shit, _no_.” Kise clamped his hands over his eyes. “I’m just—I’m just _really happy_ okay? I feel like a weight’s been lifted off of me.”

Then it was Aomine’s turn to splutter, his blush coming in late, as if it just dawned on him that what was happening was really happening. “Damn,” he breathed out, crushing Kise against him into a tight hug. “Damn. Shit, me too. Fuck, I’m so happy right now. Damn.”

Kise groaned, unable to contain himself and this sudden surge of happiness, almost unable to bear it, and he moved his hands to Aomine’s back, squeezing him tighter. They stayed like that for what seemed like _hours_ , just holding each other, savoring the feeling of each other’s presence, feeling their hearts beat together and their warmth and happiness bubbling over their breaths.

Kise forgot all about the binoculars out his window (they might as well have cracked from what the stalker saw through them), and all the sneaking around; and he found himself feeling thankful for the past month’s troubles, even thankful for Fukuda the stalker. And it may have worked out a bit differently than any of them had expected it to, and frankly a lot more violently and stupidly than things could have ever gone, and even if Kise and Aomine were still not sure if any of what was happening was real, their closeness and bliss felt like a dream, and the way they fit each other so perfectly—head butts aside—it all felt like home.

 

* * *

 

“Say it again.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Say. It. Again.”

Kise pouted, all of his charm sparkling in his eyes. Aomine shoved a hand over his face, making him garble. “Don’t do that,” Aomine grumbled, flushing lightly.

“Do you want to destroy my _face_ ,” Kise wailed, flapping at Aomine’s arm. “I need this for my modeling job.”

“No,” came the reply. “I like your face.”

Kise felt his blush crawling further up said face. “Shut up.”

“I’m gonna puke,” Kagami groaned to the side.

“Then get out and puke where I don’t see you,” Aomine barked.

“Take me with you,” Kuroko, seated beside Kagami, said as blankly as his face was—or was trying to be, at least. He slurped on his vanilla shake with utmost focus on anything that wasn’t what was going around at their table—or more like what was going on at Aomine and Kise’s side of the table.

“Here’s your extra vanilla shake, Tetsu-kun!” Momoi popped up, placing a large vanilla shake next to Kuroko’s almost finished one.

“Why are you all even _here_ ,” Aomine groaned, stealing some of Kagami’s french fries.

“We were here _first_ ,” Kagami growled, smacking Aomine’s next attempt at pilfering his food.

“Ah, Ki-chan, please remind Dai-chan to stop forgetting his clothes,” Momoi said, sneaking a glare at Aomine. “His Touou shorts are still at your place, right? Oh, and his underwear.”

“Oh my god.” Kagami buried his face in his burger, and Kuroko struggled to swallow a gulp of vanilla shake that was threatening to choke him. “I think I’m actually losing my appetite.”

“Oh, you mean that void you call your stomach?”

Kagami threw his burger wrappers at Aomine’s face.

“Stop that,” Momoi snapped, slapping at the flying burger wrappers. “You’re disturbing Tetsu-kun.”

“I think he’s getting disturbed for different reasons,” Kagami pointed out. “Let’s just go play before Kuroko starts choking on any more of his shakes.”

It wasn’t exactly ‘playing’ so much as it was hurling the basketball at either Aomine or Kagami’s face, and by the time that they decided that the height of the basketball hoop was nowhere near their heads, Kuroko had taken possession of the basketball and hugged it in a vice grip, resolved to keep it out of play and out of any of the aces’ hands. He promptly chucked it at the back of Kagami’s head when the redhead had attempted to play _without_ the ball, and consequently grabbed the back of his collar to drag him away.

Kise was chuckling from his position on the ground, waving as they left, and Momoi yelled out a reminder for the retrieval of Dai-chan’s underwear before following them, giving Kise a wink—and that one he understood, winking back sheepishly.

“Stupid Bakagami,” Aomine huffed, bending to pick up the basketball on the ground.

“That’s kind of redundant,” Kise snickered, sitting up.

“Just shows how stupid that idiot is.” Aomine plopped down behind Kise, leaning against his back. Kise hummed appreciatively at the warm weight behind him, leaning back and resting his head on Aomine’s shoulder, closing his eyes to the breeze of the wind and the setting sun. Aomine reached out from over his shoulder to stroke Kise’s hair, and it felt like a feather weaving through the strands as they settled against each other in a tranquil silence. Kise leaned his face onto Aomine’s palm, and rested his hand atop it, and before he could get lost in the moment, he heaved himself up, dragging Aomine’s hand with him.

“Come on,” Kise said, tugging at Aomine to stand up. “It’s gonna get dark soon.”

Aomine scoffed. “I just sat down,” he whined, giving Kise a tug. “Let’s stay here for a bit.”

“Wouldn’t you rather we go to my place?” Kise spoke, bending to whisper in Aomine’s ear. “ _Daiki?_ ”

Aomine went still, eyes bolting open and cheeks going dark. He stuffed his face in his hand to hide the blush that snuck up to his ears, cursing under his breath. “Fucking— _now_ you say it?”

Kise grinned from Aominecchi’s reaction, tugging at his hand again. “I thought you wanted me to say it.”

“I need a warning first, dammit,” Aomine was still sputtering in his embarrassment, but let Kise pull him up to stand.

Kise chuckled, feeling light and happy. He didn’t feel any of the neck prickling or see any shadows darting about corners and alleyways while unremittingly following him. When he opened his curtains in the morning, he was greeted to a normal view with no glinting binoculars. And now, he was with Aomine, holding his hand, and it was almost just as real as it had been when they were “pretending.”

“You’ve gotta do the same for me, too,” Kise said, as they reached his apartment.

“The same what?”

Kise fumbled with his keys, learning to use just one hand to unlock his door while his other was occupied with Aomine’s. “Say my name too.”

He swung the door open, and felt a slight squeeze from Aomine’s hand, who pulled him inside, both of them stumbling into the apartment as Aomine spared no time and glided his hand behind Kise’s neck and kissed him. Kise would always be taken by surprise at how Aomine was both straightforward but almost painfully gentle—it made Kise’s heart throb with affection, the way his hand was so light against Kise’s hair, his neck, his cheek. The way it was always a slow build up, as if he always approached timidly, and then slowly gave into his desires, sharing his happiness at every kiss and holding him like he was the most precious thing in the world, so tenderly as if he would break, but firmly enough to never let go.

He didn’t know if Aomine’s realized it, but Kise always loved this; how Aominecchi took his sweet time kissing him, holding him, embracing Kise so close to himself for what seemed like _hours_. It was all so intimate; Kise would always be overflowing with throbbing happiness and love, and he returned every squeeze, every hug, every kiss, as if to answer: _I’m here. This is real._

Aomine sighed against Kise’s lips, and they were going slow, eyes shut, savoring each tilt of their heads, each breath shared. Kise’s head felt light, and he hadn’t realized that they had somehow stumbled into his living room until the back of Aomine’s knees buckled at the couch, sending them both falling into it. Kise reacted fast enough to brace a hand behind Aomine’s head, cushioning it from slamming into the headrest, his other hand landing on the edge of the padding right above Aomine’s shoulder. Kise had landed on a knee, and he was bent so that he was looking down at Aomine, and they stared at one other, eyes locked as they both marveled at each other—at the dream that was their current situation.

The way Aomine looked at Kise then was something he would never get used to, just like how he probably wouldn’t get used to the way he lifted his hand and stroked his cheek, admiring the way the sunlight filtered through Kise’s windows and cast a golden halo around his head, his blonde hair and golden eyes making him _glow_ , radiant and breathtaking.

“You’re like the sun,” Aomine breathed, eyes dark yet sparkling with adoration.

Kise bit his lip, feeling his cheeks burn, unable to look away and tell Aomine the exact same thing. Aomine slid his hand behind his neck then, and gently pulled him closer, making him bend over and rest his forehead on his, breaths mingling together. Aomine’s hand moved to caress his jaw, lightly, and he whispered low, “ _Ryouta._ ”

Kise’s breath hitched, and he couldn’t help it then, leaning all the way down, mouth hot against Aomine’s. He held Aomine’s face as he kissed him fervidly, almost feverishly, taking the lead this time. Aomine ran his hands along Kise’s spine, going lower slowly, sending tingles of sensation up Kise’s back. Aomine was groaning, ragged and breathless, brow knotted in pleasure as Kise moved his body closer, straddling Aomine’s hips.

Kise pulled back just a little to breathe, meeting Aomine’s eyes, which had glazed over, dark and hooded, just like Kise’s. He gave Aomine a peck on the cheek, then on the corner of his mouth, and then held his face in his hands and tilted it up for another kiss on the lips, and this time Kise takes advantage of Aomine’s need to breathe by slipping his tongue into his mouth, coaxing a muffled groan from him. Aomine moved under him, shifting so that he was sitting up straighter, wrapping his arms around Kise’s waist and pulling him closer so that their bodies were pressed together, and they could feel each other’s pulses; each other’s warmth.

“ _Daiki,_ ” Kise moaned against his lips, making Aomine groan, hands pulling Kise closer against him. His hands slid under Kise’s jacket, and Kise pulled back with a gasp, panting as he shakily started shuddering off the jacket. They were both breathing heavily, rapidly, hearts hammering inside their chests. The sun was casting a stunning ray of light on Kise as he shrugged off his jacket, the light hitting his face so brilliantly, and Aomine felt his jaw loosen. The sunlight brushed over Kise’s eyes, making him squint at it, and then a flicker of light made him do a double take on the window, and he promptly froze in shock and ducked to bury his face in Aomine’s collar, away from the light.

“Holy crap,” Kise gasped, still short of breath.

Aomine stilled, hand resting on the back of Kise’s head. “What?”

“Binoculars,” Kise breathed. “I see binoculars out the window.”

“ _What_.” Aomine stirred under Kise, just now realizing that the light being cast on Kise meant that the curtains were drawn open. “I thought you said we aren’t being followed anymore.”

“We weren’t. Aren’t.” Kise sank lower into Aomine’s chest. “No one was stalking me for the past couple of days, they appeared just now.”

“Wait— _they_?”

Kise felt his face burning. “There’s more than one pair of binoculars aimed at us from across the street.”

Aomine gaped at him. “Holy fuck. What the hell.”

“ _I know_ ,” Kise wailed. “I had a feeling that Fukuda wasn’t just _stalking_ anymore.”

The concept seemed to clear up in Aomine’s head. “No,” he said. “It’s not stalking anymore.” The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. “That’s fucking _voyeurism_.”

 _That’s the word_ , Kise thought. That was the term he’d been trying to put a name to since he’d started getting more intimate with Aomine. The idea settled in him like a heavy weight in his gut, making him grimace. “And apparently he brought friends.”

Kise felt Aomine’s chest trembling and looked up to find him stifling a laugh. “ _What?_ ”

Aomine looked at him, a smile in his eyes. “Nothing,” he said, smirking crookedly. “I was just thinking that if I wasn’t here with you, I might be with them over there.”

“W-wha—” Kise spluttered, brought short by Aomine’s sort of confession.

“But I don’t know,” Aomine continued, stroking Kise’s hair. “I don’t think I could stand _watching_. It’s gotta be me. With you.”

Words escaped Kise, and all he could do was grumble in Aomine’s neck as his blush crawled up to his ears. “It _is_ you,” he managed to mutter against Aomine’s neck, feeling it tense up and shudder.

“Yeah,” Aomine said, pulling Kise to look at him. Kise felt self-conscious then, lowering his head to hide from the window. Aomine grinned, sweetly. “But even though I could say that I feel for them, I don’t want them to see you.” And he sat up fully, half-carrying Kise up with him, twisting so that Kise was seated on the couch, and their heads were visible from over the headrest. Kise glanced at the window uneasily, and then Aomine hooked his thumb under his chin and turned his head to face him, leaning in to press his lips against Kise’s, muffling his surprised moan. Aomine side-eyed the window, and vaguely spotted three shining pairs of lenses in the next building, feeling a possessive protectiveness grip him as he slipped his tongue between Kise’s parted lips, savoring his taste, feeling hot from his moans. He eased Kise back against the armrest of the couch, deepening the kiss the lower they went, until Kise’s head was resting on the armrest, and Aomine was on top of him, getting dangerously close to losing it.

He pulled back to breathe, panting, this time the one looking down at Kise, who stared back with such open want, it gripped at Aomine’s chest and actually _hurt_. Kise had a hand on Aomine’s shirt, clutching at the cloth around his collar, keeping him there and not anywhere further. Kise didn’t realize that he was holding so tightly until Aomine put a hand over his, gently peeling his fingers off of his shirt. And Aomine sat up again, partially kneeling; torso sticking out over the couch, glancing at their far-off ‘audience’, and Kise seemed to get the idea. He reached out and slipped his hands under Aomine’s shirt, making him stiffen at the way Kise skimmed over his stomach and slid higher, slowly lifting the edges of Aomine’s shirt. Aomine hissed, electric shocks of pleasure sneaking up and down his body, and the fact that he _knew_ that people were watching made him feel more roused, and he bit his lip, eyes falling hooded and dark with a stronger desire.

Kise sucked in a breath and bent forward to press his lips against Aomine’s stomach, sending jolts of pleasure at every peck, and it was enough to coax a strangled groan from him. Kise hummed against his skin, staring up at Aomine, hands gliding gingerly against his hips, his ribs, his chest. And Aomine shuddered, his teeth digging down harder on his bottom lip. He cursed under his breath and let out a grunt, hooking his hands under his shirt and pulling it over his head. Kise stilled for a moment, moving back a little to stare at Aomine with a transparent awe and yearning that made Aomine lose it and come down on him right there, hot and heady and full of passion. And he reached over the top of the couch to fumble for the curtain, and once his fingers grabbed ahold of a clump of it, he yanked it back forcefully, sending it clanging over the window and effectively veiling them in shadows.

Aomine’s usual tentative intimacy was replaced by a more urgent hunger and desire, and though his hands still had a gentle, tender touch to it, he was reaching under Kise’s shirt at a pace that was making Kise’s head spin, and every touch sent heat pooling at his chest and stomach.

They both studied each other then, mapping out the lines of their bodies and every part that made their spines sing with sensation, every spot that made Aomine press closer, made Kise clutch him harder, made their breaths ragged. Their eyes were glazed when they had to pull apart after forgetting to breathe, lips swollen and red from all the kissing, bodies radiating heat against each other. The urgency didn’t disappear, and Kise lifted his torso slightly as Aomine pulled his shirt off, and Aomine looked him over with a kind of hunger that made Kise swallow. “So you still ended up closing the curtains,” Kise gasped, trying to keep his mind straight, which was really hard considering how Aomine had lowered his head to Kise’s chest, then his stomach.

“Yeah,” Aomine mumbled against his skin. “I don’t want them to see you—”

“You already— _hn_ —said that—” Kise panted between ragged breaths, hands flitting towards Aomine’s shoulders, his hair.

“—when you’re so hot—like this—” Aomine pushed himself up and hovered over Kise, bringing his head down to kiss him again. And it was the nth time they’ve brought their lips together but Kise was sure he’d _never_ tire of it.

It was slow, and Aomine had brought a hand to Kise’s cheek, just barely touching the side of his face as they kissed repeatedly, slowly, barely moving—apart from their lips—pausing just half a second between every other kiss, between every breath that they shared, every breath that they inhaled from the other. “Because—” another kiss. “—you’re mine—” and another. “—and I’m yours.”

Warmth bloomed in Kise’s chest, and he brought his arms around Aomine’s neck to hug him close again. “Yeah,” Kise said, humming as Aomine moved to kiss his throat, his neck, putting more pressure and tenderness that Kise was sure there’d be marks later.

But he welcomed it, returning the favor everywhere Kise could reach. He snaked his hands lower behind Aomine’s back, and then ran them through the hem of his shorts, slipping underneath. It drew another hiss from Aomine, who kissed him again, groaning, and Kise moaned in encouragement as he felt Aomine’s heat against his fingers. And Aomine followed, reaching with one hand to clasp a thumb at Kise’s shorts, gingerly pulling it down. He moved lower atop Kise to bring his mouth to his throat, his collarbone, peppering hot kisses like he wanted to feel every inch of him. And Kise was getting so light-headed, overflowing with warmth and affection he felt like he’d explode, heart pounding in his chest and nerves singing every time he gasped “ _Daiki,_ ” as Aomine would reply with a kiss every time.

Kise vaguely felt thankful for his modeling gig and the perks it had, not the least of which was being able to get good furniture—especially his couch, which Kise had mentally dubbed his favorite piece of furniture as of the moment. It felt like the perfect size, just enough for him and Aomine to get on top of each other and narrow enough so that they’re closer, their movements restricted to far more intimate contact than a larger space would allow. When Kise’s laying flat on it, under the weight of Aomine’s warmth, he faintly appreciates how couches have armrests to cushion his head as Aomine sinks into him, Kise’s back arching at the aching pleasure of it all. He bit his lip, feeling a new sensation he’d never felt before and finding that he really, _really_ liked it. And Aomine shuddered on top of him, barely able to move, sliding his tongue along the teeth Kise had dug into his lip with, hissing “ _Ryouta_ ”. Kise let out a soft moan, lips parting, bringing his hands around Aomine’s shoulders and clutching his head as he felt Aomine move, slowly, muffling Kise’s gasps and moans with slovenly, distracted kisses. Gradually, he moved faster, sending bursts of sensation at every roll of his hips, forehead pressed against Kise’s as he chanted his name like a prayer, and Kise held him close, unable to stop the moans from escaping his lips as he started to move down to meet Aomine. He felt like he was coming apart, melting under the heat of their embrace and floating in a dream—one he didn’t want to wake up from.

“ _Daiki,_ ” Kise gasped, and Aomine hitched his hips higher with a groan, setting fireworks behind Kise’s eyelids. Kise held onto him, arms heavy around Aomine’s shoulder blades, fingertips digging into his skin. “I love you.”

Aomine’s breath hitched then, sharply inhaling as he searched Kise’s face and found his dark, glimmering eyes, coming down on him like a wave as he rocked further, mouth hot on Kise’s as he breathed into him his ‘ _I love you’_ s. Kise let out a cry when he came apart under him, around him, the pleasure blazing inside him and leaving him in a daze, breathless. Aomine followed soon after, groaning against the side of Kise’s head, shuddering as pleasure pulsed through them both, throbbing against their pounding hearts and tattered breaths. He tried to keep himself up, legs and arms trembling, but Kise limply hugged him closer, and Aomine collapsed on top of him, breathless.

It felt like forever before they managed to pull themselves together, and Aomine is the first to gather his breath and pants, “ _Fuck_.”

They were both still winded then, and Kise starts struggling with his breath again when he feels his laughter bubbling up breathlessly from his lips, strangled under Aomine’s weight. Aomine lifts his head from the crook of Kise’s neck and looks at his face, and a dazed, brilliant grin stretches over his features as he pecked at Kise’s jaw, the life in his arms slowly returning as he tiredly lifted himself a little, giving Kise space to breathe and angling himself higher to brush his lips along the side of Kise’s jaw, sending sparks up his spine. He moved higher and nipped at Kise’s left ear, his tongue gliding over the cold metal of his piercing, drawing out a gasp. Kise feels Aomine smile, and the hot breath that escapes his lips makes Kise shudder as Aomine whispered, in his low, bedroom voice, “Sweet spot?”

Kise bit his lip, squirming, and Aomine gave a light laugh. “You’ve gotta stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Biting your lip,” Aomine mumbled, sucking on Kise’s lower lip to free it from his bite. “S’too hot.”

Kise’s cheeks come back to life in a flush, and he broke out in a sheepish grin, baring his teeth and sinking them into Aomine’s lip, and then slipping his tongue inside his surprised groan. “Then I’ll—bite you—instead,” Kise murmured against his mouth.

“Fucking hell,” Aomine hissed. “You are the _best_.”

Kise snorts, and they’re both laughing, feeling lighter than ever, scooting just enough to lie side by side on the couch with Kise’s back pressed to the headrest. Kise breaths out an “I love you, Aominecchi,” into Aomine’s neck, and then corrects himself, “ _Daiki._ ”

Aomine shifted to meet his eyes, bumping their foreheads lightly. He was blushing, but wore a smug grin. “I love me too.”

Kise tsked, and shoved Aomine off the couch. But Aomine had an arm around him and brought Kise down with him, and they were rolling over each other, high on bliss and endorphins and one other. And they’d knocked their heads together and cursed at the sturdiness of their skulls, then started grappling like they weren’t butt naked on Kise’s carpet, sure that they’d be bruised and sore in the morning. And when Kise got on top of Aomine, he pinned him down with another kiss, and all their rowdy wrestling swelled into another embrace, and Aomine brought his hand over Kise’s cheek and glided it to the back of his head, sighing his name into his mouth, and it felt like home.

**Author's Note:**

>  _kare-shirt_ \- the erotic sight of a girl wearing her boyfriend's shirt. (except in this case Aomine's obviously _not_ a girl but the definition isn't entirely lost on Kise)  
>  Again, the stalker plot is semi-patterned after a prompt a friend gave, which was based on a manga by Shoowa. I haven't read it, so any similarity beyond the general skeleton and certain dialogues of the plot is purely coincidental :) Kudos and credits to my friend An for yelling with me about this particular aoki and providing a lot of the backbone of this fic.  
> Thanks for reading!


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